


Point of View

by CedarTheBarefoot



Series: Up On the Homestead [6]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Facials, Glasses, Hammocks, Homestead AU, M/M, Oral Sex, Reading Aloud, Sex in a hammock, Strawberries, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CedarTheBarefoot/pseuds/CedarTheBarefoot
Summary: Summer on the homestead may be the growing season, but it’s also the best time to enjoy the outdoors. Pick some berries. Read a book. Relax. Maybe take some time to make use of that hammock...





	Point of View

**Author's Note:**

> So, I spend a decent portion of my life sleeping in a hammock...
> 
> I’ve been sitting on this one for a little while and I couldn’t wait any longer to share it with you!
> 
> Glad to see folks are still enjoying Up pn the Homestead!

A soft breeze brushed over the homestead, cool enough to take the edge off of the early summer heat. A bee buzzed past, momentarily interested in a sweet scent. But the striped little pollinator was discouraged from exploring further when a rough hand waved it away. 

Arthur protectively adjusted the little wooden bowl of freshly picked strawberries on his chest. He slipped one into his mouth and tossed away the stem. It was delicious and sweet. The first berry harvest had been more than adequate. Folding his hands back together to rest over his bare belly, he went back to listening. 

“_‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘I am less to you than your ivory Herm...hm…Herm-es or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses one’s good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I will kill myself.’_” John read from the borrowed book in his hand. He paused when Arthur offered him a strawberry. John sucked on his fingers a little too thoroughly, drawing a warm chuckle from him.

“Who’s Herm-es? Some Spanish feller?” John asked around the berry, combing his own fingers through Arthur’s hair. They lay together, back to chest, barefoot and half naked in their swaying hammock. The shade beneath the trees was welcome respite from the heat. 

“_Hermes_. One of them Greek fellers I think,” Arthur rumbled, leaning into John’s touch.

“Oh,” he accepted another strawberry before returning to the book. Narrowing his eyes at the words on the page, he continued, “_Hallward turned pale, and caught his hand. ‘Dorian! Dorian!’ he cried, ‘don’t_...uh…‘_don’t talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have such another. You are not je_...jea-lous. Jealous. _You are not jealous of material things, are you?’_ Jesus, he ain’t even hidin’ it.”

Arthur snorted, “Graham _did_ say this Wilde feller got into some trouble. If he speaks how he writes, it’s no wonder.”

“Mhmm. _‘I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me, and gives something to it. Oh, if it was only the other way!’_” John paused for a titter from both himself and Arthur. “_If the picture could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint it? It will mock me some day,—mock me,_ uh…_mock me horribly!’ The hot tears welled into his eyes; he tore his hand away, and, flinging himself on the divan, he buried his face in the cushions, as if he was praying._”

Arthur ate another strawberry and flicked the stem from the hammock, “Dramatic little queer, isn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s got two old queers fightin’ over him like a couple’a dogs after the same bone!” John exclaimed, leaning forward to adjust the pillow supporting his back.

A doggish groan sounded from near their feet. Beau, their bluetick hound picked up his head and turned to rest it on Arthur’s knee. The man in question chuckled and reached down to pet the dog’s scarred head. 

“No one asked yer opinion, ya menace,” John grunted, laying back against the pillow, poking the dog with his toe. Arthur snorted and held a strawberry out to Beau who gave it a sniff and gently took it from him.

“Keep feedin’ him those and he’ll be huntin’ for’em,” John groused, giving the blond hair a tug. “Bad enough you invited him up in here. Nearly tipped us over.” 

Arthur tilted his head back to look at his lover, “He just wants to be read to as well. You’re a born storyteller.” 

John cocked an eyebrow down at him and shook his head, “You’re so full’a shit.” Then he went back to squinting at the pages. Arthur studied him inquisitively for a moment before asking, “Why you holdin’ the book like that?”

“So I can read it.” John grumbled, “_‘This is your doing, Harry,’ said Hallward, b...bitterly._”

“You never used to hold’em so close to yer face like that,” Arthur pointed out, “and you’re doin’ an awful lot of squintin’.” 

“You know, I’m more than content to read this quietly to myself,” John idly threatened, “Now would you shut up?”

“Hold on, hold on,” Arthur grunted, wiping the strawberry flesh from his fingers with a flannel before sitting up. The hammock swayed. John grabbed onto the edges, “Arthur, what the,” 

“Just hold on,” Arthur laughed, stumbling as he climbed out. Dropping the flannel, and nearly falling on his face before he managed to keep his balance. “Wait here.” He padded his bare feet across the grass and up the porch steps to disappear into the house. Despite his confusion, John didn’t exactly mind watching him go. Arthur had a nice arse and a strong back. It was a view he’d never get tired of. 

In the meantime, Beau readjusted himself and settled in between John’s legs instead. He rested his chin onto John’s thigh and heaved a lazy sigh, licking at his nose. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, ya mongrel. Yer still on my shit list for harrassin’ them chickens this morning. Again.” Despite his grumbling, John still found himself petting the dog’s head. Scratching gently behind his ears. Their relationship had certainly improved to say the least. 

He glanced towards the house to see Arthur coming out onto the porch. He had something in his hand and he was smiling. Before he came down the steps, he stopped to acknowledge the brown cat sunning herself in a rocking chair. “Miss Grimshaw.” 

The cat blinked at him, but otherwise ignored him. 

Arthur laughed and went down the steps to approach the hammock, “As social as ever, she is.” 

“‘Least she don’t need constant attention,” John countered, gesturing at the dog who had all but climbed into his lap. Arthur pushed the dog further down the hammock and carefully climbed back in. It took more than a few moments to readjust as they swayed dangerously. Arthur finally laid back against John’s chest and held something up to him.

“Here. Give those a try.” 

John frowned. 

He was holding a pair of eyeglasses. Thin wire frames, and modest oval lenses. 

“Arthur, what the hell?”

Smart blue eyes looked up at him upside-down. He held the eyeglasses closer, “Just try’em on.” 

John shook his head resolutely, “I ain’t some blind old man.” 

Arthur heaved a sigh, “I know you’re not. Just try them on, please? For me?”

John glowered down at Arthur before finally snatching the eyeglasses from him. He unfolded the little wire arms. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled before placing them on the bridge of his nose and wrapping the ends of the arms under his hair and around his ears. 

Arthur held the book up and open to John so it would be the only thing his big brown eyes would focus on. And focus they did. John lowered his eyebrows and took the book from Arthur. His eyes scanned along the printed words, his lips moving minutely as he read. He didn’t hold it close to his face, nor did he squint. Not even a little bit. 

“Better?” Arthur inquired, smiling up at him.

John pressed his lips together into a firm line. The book lowered and he asked, “Where did you get these things?” Then he blinked, and took off the glasses to rub at his eyes, unused to the lenses. 

“They’re mine,” Arthur answered, popping a strawberry into his mouth. 

“...What do you mean they’re yours?”

“I mean that they’re mine.”

John looked at the eyeglasses in his hands, “How come I ain’t never seen’em before?”

“I only ever use’em when I’m looking over a catalogue in town. Maybe a little when I’m journaling. Otherwise I kept’em to myself. Why do you think I let you do all the reading?” He smirked, a faraway look coming over his face.

“You sneaky son of a,” but then John frowned, “How come you didn’t tell me?” 

Arthur momentarily looked away, seeming pensive. He dropped the stem of a strawberry lazily from the hammock and sighed, “Guess I was embarrassed. Thought maybe you wouldn’t look at me the same. We joke about it, but I’m gettin’ older, Marston.” 

John studied the quiet, reserved look on his lover’s face. His heart clenched a little. So he smiled, “You’ve got a few years on me at best. We’re both gettin’ old, Arthur Morgan. Honestly, I never really thought we’d make it to thirty, let alone live past it.” 

Arthur snorted, “We’re well past thirty, just in case you’ve lost count.”

“But aging with you has been a blessin’. Grey hairs, crows feet, aching bones, spectacles...all of it,” John leaned down to kiss the end of his nose. “worth it if it means I’m here with you, reading illegal literature for queers.” 

Arthur huffed at that, hooking a hand around the back of John’s head to pull him down for a proper kiss. It was a bit awkward with the angle, but it didn’t stop a brush of teeth and tongue. “All this book-readin’ is makin’ you soft, John.”

“You like it.”

“‘Spose I do,” Arthur chuckled. He took the glasses and carefully placed them back onto John’s face. “Kinda like how these make you look, too.” 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“That’s a big word,” Arthur chuckled, rolling over. Beau groaned at the movement, and wriggled out of the hammock, having had enough. John hung onto the edge, and bit his lip when Arthur folded his hand around his crotch. “Say some more,” he drawled, leaning down to nip at his navel, stroking at his denim-clad cock. Interest was piqued, and it was starting to twitch and fill out.

Blushing, and unable to think of anything clever to say, John resorted to: “You’re an idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur tsked, “There’s the romantic.” 

John laughed when his lover started undoing the flies of his denims. “Arthur! Hang on, we’re gonna tip right over if you try to...ohh…” His playful protests were lost when Arthur leaned down and got his mouth around him. 

A sigh left him, and he settled back against the pillow, closing his eyes. He gasped, tensing and arching up when a hand firmly grasped him by the balls, “A-Arthur! Jesus,”

“Best get comfortable,” Arthur rumbled before flattening his tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. “When I’m done here, I aim to make a mess of that pretty, sophisticated face of yours.” 

Shuddering, John took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. There wasn’t much he could do without upsetting the hammock. So he did as he was told and relaxed. As best as he could of course. Arthur was good at many things. Giving head? Now there was one of his many hidden talents. 

It was baffling how the blond could swallow the entirety of John’s cock. Crying out, he held on tighter as Arthur did just that. Taking him down to the root, sucking, and flexing his throat around him. 

Arthur pulled back and sucked only at the crown, jerking the rest of him in his hand. Brushing his tongue just under the ridge, rubbing the tip against the roof of his mouth. 

“Oh, _oh_ my god,”John choked, shakily running his fingers through the blond hair. He watched Arthur almost effortlessly swallow him down again. His whole body jerked, his muscles shuddering, moaning aloud as he was unable to keep himself quiet any longer.

Baffling, indeed. 

Sure, John’s cock wasn’t exactly as large as Arthur’s, that was a special case. But John was by no means a small or average man either! 

He suspected that Arthur had trained himself out of a gag reflex a long time ago. For purely selfish reasons, of course. The big man took so much damn pleasure out of torturing him into complete speechlessness. The very best John could do was try and make it last as long as possible. Easier said than done with Arthur’s level of enthusiasm. 

“Ya sound real pretty, Marston,” Arthur murmured, pulling back to lick a long stripe up the underside of John’s length. His efforts had his lover gasping, writhing, moaning and desperately crying out. He smirked up at John whose head was deliriously tipped back, exposing the long line of his neck. Eyes closed behind the oval lenses of the spectacles, his face blushing red. Reaching up, Arthur laid his hand across his throat. The brunet’s pulse beat wildly against his fingers and his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Lookin’ real pretty from this angle too.” 

Then he went back to it. Sucking without abandon. Bobbing and swallowing with no regard for the edge that John was teetering over. He groaned when the fingers in his hair tightened. “Oh! Son of a _bitch_, Arthur. Ugh, you’re gonna kill me!”

Ignoring the sudden dizziness he was experiencing, Arthur took in all of John’s cock and flexed his throat around him one final time. That was all that was needed to finally bring him off. With a yell that was loud enough to echo through the trees. 

The blond swallowed a few times, gently pulling off of John’s cock. He stroked him once or twice, licking the crown clean of any lingering spend. John whimpered softly, breathing hard as he slowly came down. 

Wasting no time, Arthur carefully crawled up in the hammock. Holding the edges, he pulled himself up and straddled John’s chest, undoing his denims. Soon enough, he was able to take hold of his own neglected cock. 

Moving the hand up from his throat, Arthur caressed John’s face. The brunet peeled open his eyes and breathlessly licked at his lover’s passing thumb. Rumbling in approval, Arthur dipped the digit into his mouth. He watched him suck and lick amidst still trying to catch his breath. All the while, he stroked himself a little quicker, with full strokes. 

Giving head was one of Arthur’s favorite pastimes. He had been close to coming off already. He wasn’t about to be called a liar. 

John knew it too. He grasped Arthur’s thighs, looking reverently up as his lover jerked himself. The spectacles made things a little blurry when he wasn’t focused on it. It sure did make the pulsing vein on the underside of Arthur’s length seem more prominent. He always relished this point of view.

Groaning, the blond pressed open John’s mouth, hooking fingers around his jaw. In turn, John whined in anticipation, opening his mouth a little wider. Seconds later, Arthur was coming off with a low cry, pale ribbons spilling from his cock as he did. 

John caught some on his tongue. But only some. The rest of his face was less fortunate. 

They stilled, both of them trying to catch their breath. After a few long moments, Arthur let out a breathless laugh and gently removed the eyeglasses from his lover’s face. Opening his eyes, John looked at them clutched in Arthur’s hand. One of the oval lenses was sticky with spend. 

Arthur chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, “Told ya I would.” 

“What, try to kill me?” John panted, licking at his mouth.

“Make a mess of this pretty,” Arthur kissed him a little deeper, “sophisticated,” sucked on his lower lip, “face of yours.” He wiped cum off of his lover’s chin to press it onto his tongue. Humming, John licked at his fingers, and grazed his teeth along his knuckles. 

“Good work. Now hand me that flannel you left on the ground.” 

Laughing, Arthur looked at his lover’s messy face and shrugged, “I dunno, you look even more pretty like this.”

John glared silently up at him. 

“Okay, okay.” Arthur relented in amusement, leaning carefully over to grab the forgotten flannel from the grass. He wiped gently at John’s face, cleaning him off. Carefully sliding his knees down, he readjusted so he was lying on top of his lover who was cleaning the eyeglasses carefully with the flannel. Smiling softly, Arthur asked, “Better?”

“Much,” John muttered, seemingly indignant. But he still welcomed the bigger in for a kiss. This one was quiet, but enduring. The moments after a sharing an orgasm were fairly intimate when they had the time. Today there was plenty of it. 

“Love you.”

“Love _you_,” Arthur murmured back, gently nipping at his lover’s lip. 

John pulled back after a moment and held up the eyeglasses and the nearly forgotten book. He quirked an eyebrow and said, “How about you do some readin’ now that yer big secret’s out.” 

Arthur rumbled with laughter, but amicably took the eyeglasses and book. John watched how easily Arthur hooked the little wire arms around his ears. They aged him in a small way. But there was something calming about the way he looked right then as he opened the book on John’s chest to flip through a couple of pages. He looked distinguished, and gentlemanly in a way. John liked it. 

“Where were we?” Arthur asked, furrowing his brow in concentration.

“The part where the little queer was being dramatic.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

**Author's Note:**

> The novel they were reading was _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. 
> 
> Comment and/or kudos! Lovely to hear from you!


End file.
